The Forgotten
by Rosalie-Prince
Summary: In an act of final desperation, Hermione Granger is sent back to fix the problem where it began. She was going to fix Tom Riddle's soul. She didn't realize that broken souls often found comfort together. She would save him or she would have to kill him.
1. The Last Resort

The Forgotten

Chapter One: The Last Resort

_Disclaimer: As always, anything that you happen to recognize regrettably does not belong to me but to the most divine, J. K. Rowling._

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><p>Death.<p>

It was everywhere. All around her. It was all she could see. Dead trees, dead grass, dead magical beings.

Dead people. Dead friends.

Death.

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><p><strong>8:07 P.M.<strong>

She couldn't think, she couldn't comprehend the view she was being assaulted with. Her head pulsed harshly, the pain in any normal situation would have been unbearable. But she couldn't feel it now, not when the mental anguish threatened to engulf her. Physical pain couldn't hurt her any longer. She had long since gone numb to it. Scars marred her tanned skin. Some thin and ghastly and some long and seemingly fatal.

All magical wounds. Cursed wounds. Some long since healed and others still fresh with blood. While her body suffered, her mind was alive and thriving. It couldn't be broken. It was the one thing she protected like the sacred vessel it truly was. Her body, when broken, could be repaired for the most part. If her mind was destroyed, then all was lost. Through all the insanity, it was a miracle that she was still sane. If only in the literal sense.

She quickly flipped through the documents in multiple folders. Reading everything she could, consuming the contents urgently for the thousandth time. She wouldn't dare to take them with her on her final mission. Only one unmarked folder was to go with her. She would destroy the rest in just a moments time. She just needed to read one final passage, it was a reassurance that her mission was definitely the last resort. It was a small hand written paragraph of a slant and loopy writing of the late Headmaster Dumbledore.

_It is of my own opinion that Tom Riddle wasn't born evil. He was sculpted by the unfortunate circumstances of his life and a heavy thirst to prove himself in a new world. Later on in his life, the Horcruxes I believe broke him completely. Lord Voldemort is soulless. I'd like to think that Tom Riddle was not. If only he'd been given the chance to be someone other than the person he was force into being. Tom Riddle could have been saved from his ultimate fate of transforming into Lord Voldemort. I failed. Perhaps another will not. _

Hermione sighed heavily as she stared at the words for a moment perhaps too long. It was finally time and though she was more than prepared, she wasn't ready. Her entire world was gone but she _still_ wasn't ready. She had nothing to live for in this world any longer. Yet, she felt as if she was abandoning the desolate land she was leaving behind. It was a weird and empty feeling.

"Get yourself together." Hermione whispered fiercely as she tugged on her hair. She honestly didn't have time to be getting all emotional. She knew that Voldemort was only moments away now. He had come to kill her. The last of the Order of the Phoenix. The last of the Golden Trio. The last Upholder of the Light Side. With her gone, he was truly a conqueror. There would be no hope. There would be no struggle. Only fear would remain and the Wizarding World would be led into a New Age. And Lord Voldemort would be the leader.

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><p><strong>7:13 P.M.<strong>

"Albus, I don't understand what it is that you are truly asking of me." Hermione's voice was raspy and hurried.

"It wouldn't be right of me to ask anything more of you Hermione." Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes had long since lost their magical twinkle and formalities were thrown out, staring back at her was a shell of the man he once was. "We must hurry, we are running out of time."

The War on the Wizarding World was lost; they no longer stood a chance. They never even truly stood a chance. Harry Potter was gone, murdered just mere minutes ago. His lifeless body lay hauntingly on the floor of the last secret hideout of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry had done everything in his power to beat the monster that was now Lord Voldemort but nothing had ever been enough. You can't kill something that isn't human and Lord Voldemort was no longer of their divine race. He was a mixture of pure dark power and unmatched evil. No one stood a chance. Harry had tried and Harry had failed. And by doing so he had sacrificed his life. So _many_ had sacrificed their lives in the name of the Light.

"I can't do this." Hermione sunk low to the ground and wrapped her thin arms around her knobbly knees. Even though she had promised herself that she wouldn't cry anymore, tears ran down her dirt marred face. Their tracks making her seem so feeble and weak. Everybody she ever knew was dead, gone forever. She would never speak to them, touch them, hear their laughter, they were all gone. The Mighty Dumbledore was dying himself, he was given a slow painful death. The poison running through his very veins this moment, destroying the very body it took sanctuary in. "Albus I can't do this."

"Hermione, I would trust no one but you with this mission." Dumbledore said sincerely. His heavy lidded eyes were shut behind his broken half moon glasses. His voice was soft and harsh.

"The time has arrived finally then? This is the last resort!" Hermione bit her lip nervously, the tears still flowing in anguish as she stared over into the empty eyes of her best friend. He lay but a few feet away.

"Yes, we have waited long enough." Dumbledore answered gravely, sliding down against the wall to rest on the dusty cobwebbed floor. "The Light Side is no more. You must go back to the beginning."

"How am I to fix a man such as him!" Hermione laughed brokenly. "I've read the information, the facts and the interviews all a thousand times. All I'm convinced of is that he was a damn good liar and a master manipulator."

Dumbledore reached into his tattered robes pocket and pulled out a rather large vial of the brightest blue potion she had ever seen. In the middle, were beautiful swirls of purple, the coils appearing magical. His eyes looked at it as if it was the only thing in the room. His ears had long since gone deaf to Hermione's fearful rants.

"Hermione, please." Dumbledore said quietly as his voice cracked. It stopped Hermione in her tracks, she had never heard him sound so pathetic, so very weak. "This mission is yours. You must change everything."

"Will it hurt?" She asked as she gently grabbed the vial from her dear Headmaster's brittle fingers. "I mean it's going to literally rip the muggle blood from me right?"

"It will only be physical pain. I assure you that you've felt worse, to you it might even tickle." Dumbledore said as he rolled his head over to watch her proudly.

"To the Wizarding World then." Hermione said bravely before putting the vial to her lips.

"To Harry." Dumbledore added gravely as he glanced slowly at his beloved pupil.

The pain was practically immediate and Hermione doubled over as her legs spread out awkwardly. She didn't scream. Dumbledore had been right. It was painful but much less then the Cruciatus Curse. She clamped her teeth down determinedly and gritted them together as she felt her body begin to change. She could hear cracks and pops as her bones seem to break and shift inside her, she might have groaned at that point but she tried to stay inside her mind. Her head burned as she was sure her follicles of her hair were changing. It could have been five minutes or ten hours, she lost track of time but soon the pain begin to lessen.

"Analiesa Morgana Dumbledore." She heard Albus whisper through the haze of her mind. Slowly she opened her eyes and met the now twinkling eyes of Albus Dumbledore.

"Albus?" Hermione forced out. She frowned, her voice was deeper than before and it was chilling. "I suppose it worked?"

"Indeed." Dumbledore said as he heavily gestured toward the ancient body mirror that stood against a broken wall.

Hermione stood shakily, taking notice of how much closer she was to the ground and gazed horrifyingly into the dusty mirror.

The dead brown eyes that should have stared back at her as they had for seventeen years of her life were gone. Familiar impossibly light blue eyes twinkled brilliantly in their place. Also gone was the light brown bushy hair she had grown accustomed to. She stared almost in betrayal at the now straight and thick black locks that dared to hang there. Long and very thin fingers reached up and stroked the now naturally tanned face while slowly moving slightly over the much fuller red lips. She watched entranced as the unfamiliar fingers slid over her thin nose, the nostrils flared slightly in a dangerous look and over the prominent cheek bones. She grimaced at the aristocratic look.

She dropped her hand and let her wide eyes travel down her still too thin body as she noticed that she had considerably shrank from her old height of 5'10 to what she assumed was barely 5'4. The change was maddening. She wasn't herself anymore. She wasn't use to the expressionless beautiful pureblooded face that gazed back at her. It hurt to know that her parent's muggle blood was now gone. She no longer had any tie to the two people that had raised her into the young woman that she was.

"Analiesa Morgana Dumbledore." Albus repeated. She turned around and looked sadly at the dying man, their identical eyes meeting in a general understanding. "My daughter."

"This potion, it takes away all of my muggle blood?" Hermione asked slowly walking back over to take a seat, cross legged in front of Albus. He nodded feebly. "My genetics, my connection to my parents it's all gone?"

"I know you are sad child but think of it as a new life." Albus tried to comfort her.

"Will you know me?" Hermione asked delicately, her heart aching lightly at Albus's soulful words.

He _was_ right, this would be like a new life for her. Where she was going destruction and devastation didn't exist like this. Grindlewald was no Lord Voldemort. He had been too enthralled by the Deathly Hallows to achieve the chaos that Lord Voldemort had. It was for the most part a peaceful world, something she hadn't seen. The death of her parents had hit her hard but now she had a chance to give them a better life. To give all of the Wizarding World a better life. Perhaps maybe even give Harry a chance know his own parents.

"No." Albus shook his head sadly. "But I have provided you with the proper papers to present to me and I shouldn't find an error in them. I will accept you as my daughter."

"How can you be so sure?" Hermione asked skeptically, her round eyes landing on the hands of Albus.

Despite the cuts and dirt that marred the porcelain surface, she could see the skeletal form of long and thin fingers. She had inherited those very hands and it amazed her. She truly was no longer Hermione; she was no longer mudblood Granger, she was now a pureblood and two of the most powerful bloodlines now ran through her veins. No longer would she have to fight to find her place in the face of the bigoted Wizarding society.

She defined it.

"It will all be explained in the documents I provided in your trunk." Dumbledore explained, gesturing tiredly towards the trunk in the corner,. They had been through this many times. "You are now Analiesa."

"Yes I know." Hermione snapped tiredly. Only she wasn't Hermione anymore, she was Analiesa. She was now the only heir of Albus Dumbledore and Circe Le Fay, the descendent of Morgana Le Fey and the infamous Merlin. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She didn't mean to snap at her aged mentor. "Do I look like her?"

"Yes very much so." Albus's eyes ran over her face, taking in the features. "I put a few pictures of her in there for you."

"Thank you." Hermione attempted to smile but it came out more of a grimace. She was stressed with the thoughts of being the last hope for peace in their world. It was murdering. "I'm scared."

"You should be." Albus told her gravely. "The mission is most dangerous and you have a better chance at failing than you do at succeeding but we must try."

"I will do my best." Hermione said as she grabbed the cold hand of her Headmaster. "We should prepare the ruins."

"Yes we should." Albus agreed. "Once I put the last of my power in them, you will only have an hour to complete the spell."

"I remember." Hermione reassured him. "You will die."

"I died many years ago my dear child." Albus Dumbledore grabbed the shoulder of his student and identical eyes met in silence.

It wasn't much longer before Albus Dumbledore's body lay cold next to that of Harry Potter's. A large collection of ruins burned into the floor glowed brightly with his power. They were the last of Albus Dumbledore's amazing legacy. Silently a small woman stood fiercely between the ruins and the two dead men.

It was time.


	2. A Lost Soul

The Forgotten

Chapter Two: A Lost Soul

_Disclaimer: As always, anything that you happen to recognize regrettably does not belong to me but to the most divine, J. K. Rowling._

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><p><em>May 13 1998<em>

A final word.

A desperate light.

A quick good bye.

A silent tear.

_June 13 1944_

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><p>Her head was pounding. Her eyes threatened to burst out from her very skull. Her entire body felt tingly except for the parts that she knew were still bleeding. Hours passed by before she even dared to move from her fallen position. She was face down in the dirt, she could taste the earth in her mouth. Grimacing she began to sit up, ignoring the pain in her ribs. She spit pathetically and wiped her face slowly as she looked around.<p>

She was in a beautiful meadow with flowers everywhere. Birds were chirping and not far away was a herd of unicorns grazing silently. It was peaceful. Her trunk lay a few feet away on it side but managed to have somehow have stayed locked. Hermione turned away from it and continued to survey her surroundings. Many months of fighting didn't allow her to rest until she knew the perimeter was secure.

Satisfied, she slowly pushed herself to a standing position. She was at her intended destination, just outside Hogsmeade. Whether she had made it to her intended year, she wasn't quite sure however.

"_Tempus." _Hermione whispered as she flicked her wand slightly. **June 13 1944. **

Hermione let out a surprised breath and felt relief wash over her. She had made it. Dumbledore's runes had worked. He had made it so she had traveled more than fifty years back in the past, a feat not heard of yet in time travel. Now it was truly up to her to complete the mission successfully. She was going to break one of the most fundamental rules of magic.

_Don't change time. _

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><p>Hermione sent an unlocking charm at her trunk and smiled as the familiar smell of fresh parchment hit her. It was loaded to the brim with clothes, the one folder she had yet to read and many books that had yet to be published in this time. Without question, she took the folder first and sat back down on the ground with a sigh. She grabbed the first parchment and ran her thumb adoringly over the familiar slant writing of Albus Dumbledore.<p>

_Analiesa,_

_I have enclosed all the proper documents for not only your enrollment into Hogwarts but to prove that you are indeed my daughter. Please take the time out to read through all the necessary information I have provided you with. Do not let your guard down for even a moment, for in this world, people will savage upon any weakness. I trust that you will do what you must and in time, you will become a legendary witch. Your mother would be proud._

_-A.D._

It was short and simple and Hermione instantly lit it aflame. It made her smile but there could be absolutely no evidence or anything that could be used against her just lying around. Under his letter, she found a few old wizarding photographs. The first she was assured was a picture of Circe Le Fay, her now biological mother.

She was a beautiful witch. Small with gorgeously sun-kissed skin and mysterious purplish eyes. She had the same plump lips and wide eyes as Hermione now did, even her prominent cheek bones were the same. Her midnight black hair fell down in waves passed her bottom and a wide toothed grin spread lovingly across her face as she hovered on a broom.

The next picture was of Albus and Circe. Albus's tall frame easily towered over the short frame of the endearing witch but they looked incomparably happy together. The sparkle in Albus's eyes was full force as he held Circe by the waist; both were smiling and waving at the camera wildly. It was a beautiful picture. She could tell that Dumbledore had cared for this woman very much, she had never seen the man smile as he did in this very picture. It made her feel quite faint.

She took the final picture and held it tightly in her hand as her eyebrows creased together. It was of Albus and Circe again but in the wizard's arms was a young child. A toddler with straight black locks and a joyous smile. She was tugging on the long beard of Dumbledore's which was still auburn. Hermione unconsciously reached up and tugged on a new black lock of her own. The child looked eerily familiar.

Shaken up slightly she set the picture aside for a moment and grabbed the next parchment. It was another letter, this time in a scrawl she didn't recognize.

_My dearest Analiesa,_

_You do not know of me yet but as I write this letter, I cannot help but feel that I love you more than words can express. My heart saddens at the fact that I will never be able to watch you grow, you perhaps were not my child for many years but in a sense you always were. Perhaps I owe you an explanation since I am assured that Albus has giving you none. _

_The blood that runs through your veins is ancient. Your maternal family is the longest and oldest living wizarding family in the entire world. Your direct ancestor is Merlin himself, the first wizard to ever be. He was the very soul of magic before it was anything but pure and good. He is probably rolling over in his own grave at the state that the wizarding world is now in. However, we won't discuss him for he is only the root of what I must explain to you. _

_Your father was given specific and completely vague instructions and it was only his total devotion to me that convinced him to even follow them without question. He was a clever man and I would not be surprised if he had researched the potion and found out what it would do. It's ancient magic, long since lost. But your father is more than capable. The potion was designed to help lost souls regain the bodies. _

_Our magic is old and powerful. I myself, have benefited greatly from the use of it. But, as all Le Fay's, I have found myself with an extra gift. I am a seer. This is truly where my story begins. Your father and I were involved many years ago. First just as friends and then as much more. I loved him very much and soon, we were gifted with a child. Your birth was extraordinary, you were so beautiful and the perfect combination of both me and your father. We both loved you dearly. And then, tragedy ensued and out of fear, you were murdered by a very young but powerful wizard, Grindelwald. _

_He wanted Albus for himself, but Albus didn't want to go dark as Grindelwald was doing. He decided to stay with me and when Grindelwald found out about you, he grew angry and spiteful that Albus had chosen me over him. You were visiting Aberforth one day and Grindelwald showed up, he stunned your Uncle and turned his wand on you. You were murdered instantly, and he disappeared. _

_We were devastated and I blamed myself, for I was this magnificent seer and I failed to see my own daughter's death! It is now that I must tell you how much I loved you my dear. I only got to know you for three years of your life but you were more than my world. You were the very breath that I expelled. I didn't move out of bed for an entire week and during a time of silence, I received an extraordinary vision. _

_I seen you, your life as Hermione Granger, a most intelligent and wonderful young witch. I watched you grow up and then befriend Albus and fight for the light against a new Dark Lord, Voldemort. Then, I seen myself getting a vial of Albus's blood and my own and mixing it into a most complex potion. He was confused but he trusted me. I drew a very vivid picture of you for him, he was to find you. _

_When the wizarding world was on the brink of extinction and Voldemort was at the height of his power, you needed to be sent back to the time in which your soul belonged. At this point your father was very frustrated with me but he understood that he must follow these instructions completely. He could not tell you of your true lineage. I cannot imagine the pain he must have went through being able to see you but not hug you. Talk to you but not confess his love for his only daughter. But I knew Albus would do it, if it meant that he could have another chance at a life with you. He would have done anything. _

_You, Analiesa, were destined to do many great things but first you must save the wizarding world from a most disastrous fate. I cannot tell you how to do it or what to even do, that is for you to decide. I have completed my vision and put you back where you belong. I wish I could be around to help you and offer what limited advice that I may have but I cannot. I will die soon, I have seen it. _

_Don't try to understand time my love for it will only create an unnecessary headache. We are not meant to understand it. Do what you must my daughter and follow your instincts; they are after all most ancient. I love you with all my heart and I hope that you will happily be reunited with your father very soon. Live well and love deeply. And remember, your father thinks you are dead._

_Circe Le Fay_

Hermione sat there her fist crushing the letter in her palm. Albus Dumbledore had been her real father. The Leader of the Order of Phoenix, the Beacon of the Light, A Master Sorcerer, Headmaster of Hogwarts and her _father._ All along her mentor had guided her, had fought next to her and had died in her very arms. And he couldn't tell her. Her naturally wide eyes closed in pain. Would it ever stop?

Hermione Granger didn't exist. She had never existed. Her body was just housing the soul that had been ripped from her natural body at too young of an age. It had found refuge in another. Her head was spinning as she tried to absorb the information. Her entire life had been an utter facade. She would never get to meet her mother who she was sure was murdered by Grindelwald out of jealousy. And here she was in a world she didn't know she belonged in with a father that thought her dead.

"Circe." Hermione whispered miserably. Tears welled in her eyes and slowly the flowers around her began to wilt. One by one the dying flowers petals fell to the ground and crumbled into dust. Hermione slowly picked up a rapidly browning flower and sniffled. "Not you too."

And if by magic, the flower slowly regained its color and began to grow back stronger and more beautiful than before. A small sad smile brightened her face as she set the flower back down on the ground where its roots instantly shot back into the moistened dirt.

She couldn't help but think that she too was like that flower. She had been slowly dying the last few months. A part of her very heart blackening at the death of each of her friends, her loved ones. It hurt more than she could ever admit but she too needed to heal. Being broken was weak and lonely. She was going to be like that flower. She was going to change and fix herself.

She was going to change the world.

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><p>Hermione walked slowly up to the Hogwarts castle, her trunk following her dutifully. It was late afternoon by the time she had finally pulled herself together. It was time for her to keep pushing on with her mission. Time needn't be wasted when it was so very precious. Tom Riddle had already killed Myrtle with letting the basilisk loose and he would soon go to kill his father and uncle. She needed to keep his soul whole or the plan would never work.<p>

Hermione didn't exactly have a plan but she trusted that the very documents within her hands would be enough to convince Albus Dumbledore of this time that she was truly his daughter. She hadn't even bothered to read through them. It was with blind trust that she was going to walk into Hogwarts and demand a meeting with Professor Dumbledore. She rather hoped however that she wouldn't be met at wand point.

Hermione sighed and continued her trek, nervously pulling on her long black hair. She had cleaned herself up and taken some healing potions. The cuts were sealed and her ribs were no longer bruised. Now washed, her face was of a dark olive color making her unbearably blue eyes stand out. She grimaced as she thought of how her cheekbones stood out so prominently because of her low weight. Her stomach grumbled at the thought, she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten.

She had almost reached the open castle doors when a student walked around them in a hurry. She had her wand out and pointed at his face before she had even properly processed the situation. The boy didn't appear startled as he stopped in surprise too. He looked up and Hermione had to remember to breathe as she stared into the eyes of Tom Riddle.

He looked exactly as he had in the pictures. He had raven black hair that was neatly combed and slightly wavy. His skin was quite pale but his cheeks were slightly rosy giving off a more human look than she had expected. His eyes were dark as night. His gaze was cold, arrogant and calculating. He was tall and more than slightly attractive.

And he was a murderer.

Hermione cleared her throat and lowered her wand but kept her gaze. Her face was not friendly she knew, it was made of steel. Her jaw was clenched and her blue eyes narrowed as she stared into rather unfamiliar eyes. He was still Tom Riddle.

"Might I inquire as to who you are and why you're trespassing?" Tom Riddle broke the silence. His voice was charming but held an unmistakable edge. Hermione released her tensed stance and tried to remember that she didn't want to be his enemy.

"Analiesa. I'm here to see my father." Hermione said in her new voice, she had to hold back a grimace at the arrogant sound of it.

"And who might your father be?" Tom asked as he leaned casually back against the castle wall. Hermione smirked slightly and lifted her chin up and answered him in a cold drawl.

"Albus Dumbledore." Hermione said. "Would you mind showing me to his office?"

Tom didn't answer her for a moment. His dark eyes held a new glint at her father's name. Hermione knew that Tom Riddle had hated Dumbledore since Hogwarts. He had been a threat to the growing Dark Lord, a constant obstacle in his way of power. Dumbledore hadn't been like the rest of the teachers. He knew what Tom Riddle was capable of.

"I wasn't aware Professor Dumbledore had any children." Tom Riddle said conversationally. While his expression was cold, his voice was not. He appeared to be more than respectable but Hermione knew this to be just an act. "In fact, if I do remember correctly you are suppose to be dead."

"How can you be so sure that I am not?" Hermione joked lightly as her hand beat fiercely against her chest. She needed Tom Riddle to find her curious, she needed him to want to continue to talk to her. She had to catch his interest. Being the daughter of his most hated enemy would only take her so far.

"Come I will show you to his office then Ms. Dumbledore." Tom gestured for her to take entrance into the castle.

"Analiesa please and I'm sorry I didn't catch your name?" Hermione answered politely as she offered her hand. Tom Riddle smirked.

"I'm Tom Riddle, pleasure." Tom answered and grabbed her hand softly. Hermione struggled to keep the revulsion off her face as the Dark Lord raised her hand to his mouth and gently brushed her knuckles with his lips.

And at that moment she knew. If she wanted to save the world, she had only one option.

She would have to kill Tom Riddle.


	3. Pure Magic

The Forgotten

Chapter Three: Pure Magic

_Disclaimer: As always, anything that you happen to recognize regrettably does not belong to me but to the most divine, J. K. Rowling._

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><p>"Isn't it summer break?" Hermione asked innocently enough as she looked around, feigning curiosity. The castle hadn't changed in the slightest. Tom shifted almost imperceptibly but she caught it.<p>

"I requested to stay over break to work on my studies." Tom answered in his confident voice. Hermione could feel his dark penetrating gaze as he stared at her. "What have you come for?"

"I wish to attend Hogwarts for my final year of schooling." Hermione replied offhandedly. "Father speaks very highly of the school and of its students."

"You're a pureblood." Tom stated roughly. "You're mother was a Le Fay wasn't she?"

"Yes." Hermione said shortly. "Does that matter?"

"Just interesting I suppose." Tom said lightly. "The Le Fay family after all is most ancient."

"Eh I suppose." Hermione shrugged. "Blood purity was never my priority."

"I see."

They walked in silence for a moment, matching each other step for step both calm but tense. Hermione was surprised that they hadn't met anyone yet in the corridor. Tom came to a short stop outside the old Transfiguration classroom, she assumed Dumbledore held an office in there somewhere. Hermione met the gaze of the most feared Dark Lord to ever be with a calm enchanting smile.

"Are you a pureblood?" Hermione whispered with a raised eyebrow. Tom's eyes darkened considerably.

"No." He looked away from her twinkling blue eyes. "I'm a half-blood."

"You could never tell." Hermione offered as a condolence but Tom just sneered at her.

"Is he expecting you?"

"No." Hermione shook her head. "I will see you around then?"

"Perhaps." And with that Tom left without giving her a second glance.

Hermione couldn't help but stare after his retreating body. She had been admittedly trying to get a reaction from him by bringing up blood status. He hadn't exactly reacted as passionately as she had assumed he would. He almost appeared indifferently that she was a pureblood but in the documents it had said he was quite the actor. He appeared always collected and composed.

Hermione jumped slightly as the rickety wooden door was suddenly opened. She was startled by the sight of Albus Dumbledore before her once more. A less broken one albeit. Identical eyes met, both wide in surprise.

"Who are you?" Dumbledore whispered coldly as he took in her appearance. Hermione had only seen pictures of him at this age but she was still shocked to see him in person so very different looking.

Hermione tilted her head slightly and swallowed. She was at a lost for words, she wasn't quite sure what she was suppose to do now. Everything she thought she could say, wouldn't come out right she was sure. What do you say to a father when their dead daughter shows up at their door years later?

"May I come in?" Hermione whispered back after a moment, steeling her features. She didn't need him misinterpreting her emotions. "I'd rather this talk was in secret."

Albus stared at her with suspicious eyes for what to her seemed like forever before he moved slightly to the left side of the door frame. Hermione lowered her eyes and slipped her thin body through the narrow space. She took a seat on an old school desk and waited for Albus to join her, which he did with his wand out.

"Perhaps I should give you this first?" Hermione mumbled as she handed over the folder which held a single document from her old mentor. She suspected it to be a letter. Albus took it silently but continued to stare at her. "I suggest you read it and then after I suppose we can proceed with a true serum."

Slowly the man tore his eyes away from the confident girl and opened the folder. Hermione watched as his eyes got watery slowly before he composed himself. It was more than ten minutes before he uttered another word to her. This time, he wasn't quite as hostile but still guarded.

"Circe." Albus said softly and ever so gently. His voice seemed to caress the word fondly. "She was a most magnificent witch. The best I ever knew. You insult her memory by coming here."

"I wouldn't dare insult my own mother's memory." Hermione said slowly, not quite sure where he might be taking this.

"And you spit on the name of my daughter." Albus continued as he stared harshly at her. Hermione felt very self conscious as she stood up and wrapped her dark robes around her tightly.

"I am your daughter." Hermione stated proudly with her shoulders squared.

"My daughter is dead." Albus whispered simply. "I don't know who you are girl but this is the wrong game to be playing."

Hermione gritted her teeth and bit her lip. That document should have been enough! She wasn't sure what to do, she had to make him see the truth and she wasn't quite sure he was going to take the time to feed her truth serum. So with that thought she silently conjured a dagger and before Albus could send a spell at her she promptly cut a deep gash into her arm.

"I'm sure you know the charm." Hermione said softly as Albus stared at her more intently. "Go ahead and take it."

Hermione stared into the eyes of her beloved professor and now her father and couldn't help but smile sadly. The wound pulsed in anger but she barely felt the physical pain for all she could feel was the emotional pain so openly placed on her father's face. He looked like a little boy at that moment to her, scared but hopeful all at the same time. Slowly he swished his wand and the blood flowed from her arm and hovered over to him.

"_Sanguis Linea." _Albus spoke to the blood in anguish. Hermione watched with held breath as a piece of parchment appeared and the blood began to write on it like ink. It took a few minutes as the blood spelled all the names out of her ancient relatives but soon the blood line was complete. Albus read it silently.

"I can't imagine what you must be going through right now." Hermione began softly. "You thought I was dead for so very long and here I am now fourteen years later alive and well. But I too have lived without you these long years and I have had to suffer knowing that you were alive but that I couldn't be with you. You are my father and I want this relationship more than I have ever wanted anything else in my entire life."

A silence followed the bold and passionate statement. Albus Dumbledore was staring at her, his expression was broken and his eyes were full of twinkling tears. It took everything in her being not to run into his arms at the very moment. He wasn't older than seventy in this time and he looked as frail and as broken as ever standing before her.

"Analiesa." Albus said in a heart wrenching whisper as he set the parchment down on his desk. He slowly walked towards his much shorter daughter. "You have grown my child."

Albus rested his long fingers on Hermione's thin cheek lovingly. Hermione couldn't help but smile back. This truly was her father standing so powerfully before her. She could feel his love in the twinkle of his eyes as it radiated at her like it had never done before. Hermione threw her arms around her fathers neck and smashed her face into his scratchy beard. She couldn't help the tears that came out as she lost herself in the arms of her father.

"There there my child." Albus whispered as he stroked the back of long black hair. He too had tears running down his aged face as he tried to process the situation.

Analiesa was back.

* * *

><p>Hermione didn't know for how long she cried there in her father's arms. Here was a man that in another life had endured the heartache of watching her live but not being able to know her intimately as his daughter. A man that had given her so much in terms of living a better life, another chance at giving all of her loved ones a better life. A man that gave her, her own life back. Albus Dumbledore was the most amazing man that had ever been in her life. Whether it have been as her beloved mentor or her father. He had lived his entire first life in pain so that she might live again. He deserved her love, her loyalty and her devotion. Hermione had every intention of making this life a better one for him.<p>

In the documents she had read before she had come here, Dumbledore had been very clear about one thing. He should never know about her other life at least not for a very long time. For now, he needed to just know that she was alive and it was by Circe's doing. Hermione would need to destroy the papers that Circe had written detailing the mission for Albus to send her back in time as her revived soul.

Time must change.

"Sorry." Hermione mumbled as she pulled back, wiping the last remnants of her breakdown away. "It's a bit overwhelming I suppose. I've waited for this moment for a very long time."

"You are so much like her." Albus said waving away her apology as he sat against a desk. His robes were as flamboyant as she remembered them to be, today they were a dark purple with silver stars. "I think that perhaps I underestimated her."

"Mother loved you with everything she had." Hermione whispered, not quite knowing why she did. "I'm sure if there had been any other way, she would never had kept you from me."

"I loved your mother, she was so dear to me." Albus spoke gravely as his eyes looked far away. "Her powers were beyond my own and her seer abilities were unmatched. I trusted her judgment and I trusted her when she said you were gone."

"You must realize that it was for a reason." Hermione insisted, she didn't wish for Albus to see Circe as anything less than what she truly was.

"Oh don't get me wrong child. I have no doubt that this was all for the greater good." Albus smiled softly, Hermione couldn't deny her flinch. "You're mother was ever the manipulative one, she did well in Slytherin. She had no problem with fooling others into doing her bidding, whether she was aware of it or not. She was a powerful witch and a unforgettable woman, if not a bit reckless."

"You miss her?" Hermione said knowingly, watching the sadness creep back onto her father's face.

"Very much." Albus agreed solemnly. "But I still have you. For that I am eternally grateful for I am assured that her spirit lives within you."

"Grindelwald is still alive." Hermione grimaced as she changed the subject. She knew it was not an easy one for Albus to discuss. The man had once been his dearest friend and now with all respects had become his hated enemy. This man had in a jealous rage seemingly killed his only child. He had then killed his beloved partner. Grindelwald was a marked man in Albus's eyes but it still pained him.

"Not for long." Albus replied softly as he began to pace his classroom. "I have been tracking his movements. It shouldn't be long now."

"He killed my mother." Hermione said angrily.

"She knew she was going to die." Albus said. "She had time to get more than prepared, it is more than most get."

Hermione nodded in agreement. She had seen so many sudden deaths of mothers, fathers and of their children. They hadn't known. They had been innocent. Circe Le Fay had known of her death and she hadn't tried to prevent it. She accepted it and had prepared for it. Circe had lived an extraordinary life and when confronted with death she had not run from it. Hermione had just wished that she could have met the woman.

"Father, I want to come to Hogwarts." Hermione declared confidently. "I want to come out of hiding and live my life."

"Analiesa it is a dangerous time." Albus sighed as he pinched the bridge of his long thin nose. "However, I believe that I am too selfish to let you just leave. You are almost of age and can make your own decisions."

"I just want to be normal." Hermione said pathetically, a sad smile on her face. Would she ever be normal again? Her heart was broken with the many deaths she had witnessed and her life felt irrevocably cursed.

"My dear Analiesa, you are a Le Fay." Albus said gently as he rested a hand on her bony shoulder. "You will never be normal."

* * *

><p>Hermione let her feet hang off the side of the hospital bed. She was back in an old familiar place, the Hospital Wing. Albus had insisted that she come here and get her self inflicted wound healed. He himself had left to talk to Headmaster Dippet about her enrollment into seventh year at Hogwarts. Hermione had full confidence in her father's abilities to persuade the man, who she knew to be quite impressionable, into letting her in.<p>

Hermione almost laughed as the older Healer came bustling back into the room. When she had found out who Hermione was she had proceeded to accidentally light the curtains on fire. Then she had tripped over the hospital bed on her way out. She was quite nervous around her and many times Hermione caught her staring from the corner of her eye.

"I remember your mother." Madame Laurent breathed out hurriedly. "Always the troublemaker, winding up here. She was always in the latest mischief. Powerful witch."

"And my father?" Hermione smiled.

"Albus Dumbledore is a wonderful wizard and powerful one at that. So very kind and giving." Madame Laurent smiled in affection. "You look like her its rather unsettling. Except for your eyes, they are blue like Albus's. Thank Merlin."

Hermione only smiled and let the woman finally heal the deep cut on her arm that had long since stopped its bleeding. She dutifully drank the PepperUp Potion and scarfed down the plate of food she was offered. She couldn't remember the last time she had had a proper meal. She was feeling much better after eating and began to redress in her black robes just as her father arrived. He talked softly with Madame Laurent in the corner. Hermione was sure she was speaking to him about all the scars that still in this form, marred her other wise tanned skin.

"Come now child." Albus waved her over, Hermione nodded as she threw her arm through the last hole of her robes. "Let's go walk the grounds."

"She was quite pleasant." Hermione offered as they left the Hospital Wing.

"Yes I find Madame Laurent very stimulating." Albus agreed as they kept a slow pace through the castle. "Might I ask my child, where do all those scars come from?"

"Well most are from curses I suppose, a few daggers and that nasty one across my shoulder was a horrible cutting hex." Hermione said lightly, her voice nonchalant as she shrugged. Albus looked down at her, his mouth twitching slightly at her inappropriate humor.

"And from whom did you receive such a barrage of spells from?" Albus asked just as simply as if they were talking about the weather.

"Oh witches and wizards." Hermione laughed darkly. She honestly couldn't remember most of the names. Death Eaters. But they didn't exist here yet and if she had anything to say about it, they would never exist here.

"Analiesa." Albus stopped her as he softly grabbed her thin forearm. They were now out by the Herbology greenhouses. "Please forgive me if I am being intrusive but you are my daughter. You show up with all these scars on your body after you were supposed to have been dead for fourteen years and you expect me not to ask questions? Surely you owe your father some answers."

"Why darken this meeting?" Hermione spoke sincerely as she cupped her father's aged cheek in adoration. "We can talk of those things later, for now I just want to be around you. I mean, do we even need to talk?"

Albus stared at her entrancingly, his face blank but his eyes twinkling. He seemed to gaze right through her and Hermione felt not for the first time that he was reading her mind but she knew he wasn't. She had long since learned _Occulmency._ Albus Dumbledore was simply looking at her as a father often did when he met his child for the first time. It was a look of wonder.

"It amazes me truly on how very much you are like your mother." Albus repeated. "I see her in everything you do. The way you walk as if you have no other place to be, the way you talk as if nothing else mattered."

"Can you tell me about her?" Hermione asked shyly as she gestured for them to take a seat on the hill. Albus easily conjured up a light blanket and they sat, Albus smiling fondly at her.

"Circe was an extraordinary woman. She caught my interest from the very moment I saw her." Albus began, his eyes taking on a faraway look. "That witch could always keep me on my toes, for she could always see what was going to happen next. I could never surprise her. She ran around the halls of Hogwarts as if she herself owned it. She was an expert duelist. She had a kind heart and a quick wit. Her powers rivaled my own and often I felt as if she was holding back, truly I believed she was more powerful than I ever was."

"Holding back" Hermione asked, confused. Albus nodded as he pushed up his half-moon spectacles.

"Circe didn't often use magic unless she had to. She relied mostly on her visions to avoid bad situations and to navigate her way through life. You see, the Le Fay family holds on to the old tradition of pure magic. Only using magic for the benefit of something else. Pure magic is that of healing, creating or is done out of love or out of sacrifice. Magic shouldn't be used out of anger or jealousy or spite. Magic shouldn't be used to kill or destroy. This old world thinking was how your mother was raised."

"You don't believe in that?" Hermione asked honestly. The ideals he spoke of, the ideals of her family seemed unrealistic but so very beautiful. They spoke of a world of peace, something she desired most.

"I believe that to live in a world, there has to be evil. There can be no good without evil. They go hand and hand." Albus stated gravely. "Circe was passionate about her beliefs. I however could not see the logic in not fighting back. I know that she herself could have prevented her own death but she did nothing. She allowed herself to be killed and it's a hard thing for me to accept. Now more than ever."

"Why now?" Hermione wondered, her eyebrows creased compassionately as her father's face took on a dangerous look.

"Your mother let herself be murdered knowing that you were still alive. That you would be alone and without either of your parents. She did not defend herself. She had all these wonderful visions that came true. And when she had visions of death, of destruction, of chaos she did nothing. She too let them play out like her other visions. She refused to change them. She refused to mess with fate." Albus spoke softly but with passionate confusion.

"She refused to change time." Hermione acknowledged wistfully.

Circe was a enigma. She lived her whole life with the ideals of her ancestors and in the end, she had broken the most fundamental rule of it all. No matter the circumstance, no matter the destruction of the entire world. Do not change time. Circe had concocted the most ingenious plan. Hermione wished she could tell Albus of that plan. She wanted him to understand that Circe was brilliant and above all, self-sacrificing. Now however, wasn't the time.

"The Le Fay family is in extraordinary family. Wizards and witches would give anything to be born into it." Albus whispered. "But they are also a cursed family. A Le Fay can only love once. If their lover dies, then they too will perish. Love is a highly misunderstood form of magic. It is above all other forms in power."

"My mother loved you." Hermione said. Albus nodded.

"And she died for it." Albus replied gravely as he looked down at her from his half-moon glasses. "Be careful my child, with who you give your heart to. For once it is given, you cannot take it back."

Hermione smiled weakly at the man. This Albus was so very different from the one she had grown up with as her mentor and beloved Headmaster. Her father before her was still very broken from the events that had happened. He hadn't learned how to cope with the overflow of despair of losing Circe and practically losing his only daughter in such a short time. He wasn't as humorous and not quite as wise. He was just as intelligent and vastly powerful but the pain hadn't hardened him completely yet. Hermione didn't think it would until after the death of Grindelwald, the ultimate cause of his pain. It was he who had killed Circe and he who had seemingly killed Analiesa as a child. While he was still alive, closure couldn't be made for Albus. His pain was as evident as ever.

"We have the same eyes." Hermione noted playfully as she batted them at her father, suddenly feeling as if he needed a boost of happiness. Albus looked at her in surprise and smiled softly at her.

"Yes my child, we do."

* * *

><p>Tom Riddle stood behind a greenhouse and watched the conversation avidly. Analiesa Dumbledore was alive but how? Grindelwald himself had killed her over fourteen years ago, it was a well known fact. But here she sat before him next to her damned father. Alive.<p>

Tom didn't like Dumbledore. This too was a well known fact. The man was a conniving, manipulative old bastard. He was much too powerful. Albus Dumbledore was a liability in his life. He was not convinced of Tom's innocence in the Chamber of Secrets fiasco and in the death of Myrtle. He saw right through the act he portrayed as the quiet, intelligent boy of Slytherin. He saw Tom for what he was dangerous and dark.

Tom smirked ruefully at the thought as he continued to watch them talk softly to one another. They were so much alike it was revolting. The same condescending tone of voice. The same belittling smile. And the same blasted twinkling eyes. Eyes that could see into your very soul. But she wasn't just the demon spawn of Albus Dumbledore. She was also a Le Fay. The daughter of the legendary seer, Circe Le Fay. With blood like that running through her veins, she would have to be powerful. Pure and light power albeit.

The Knights of Walpurgis needed that kind of power. She was a girl, which was undeniably a let down but she held power that none of his knights did. She could prove more than slightly useful and the fact that she was Albus Dumbledore's daughter was all the more appealing. If he collected her then it would be more than satisfying. He would finally have gotten the upper hand on the man.

If anyone could sway a light to the dark. It would be him.

And he never lost.


	4. Choices

The Forgotten

**Chapter Four: Choices**

_Disclaimer: As always, anything that you happen to recognize regrettably does not belong to me but to the most divine, J. K. Rowling._

* * *

><p>"It is not our abilities that make us who we are. It is our choices." - Albus Dumbledore<p>

* * *

><p>Hermione took a deep breath, filling her senses with crisp parchment and dusty tomes. Even after all this time, the Hogwarts Library was still able to bring her a comfort that no other place could. Sitting among thousands of books, housed within the ancient and magical walls of Hogwarts was a feeling that only she was sure to appreciate. When she closed her eyes, she could almost hear Harry turning a page in a book reluctantly or see Ron rolling his eyes as she once more lectured him about falling behind and procrastinating.<p>

It was a sad feeling. However, she preferred to remember them like this. How they were and not how they died. She cringed inwardly as Ron's pale face and Harry's lifeless eyes came to mind. It was heartbreaking. She swallowed painfully and willed the tears away. She couldn't keep doing this to herself. It wasn't healthy.

"Inside on a lovely day as this?" A smooth voice interrupted her train of thoughts. Her eyes flew open, surprised at the interruption. She hadn't heard him enter the library. "Surely you wish to be outside enjoying the weather one last time before term starts?"

Hermione gazed curiously into the eyes of a murderer. She couldn't help but wonder what perhaps was going through his mind at this very moment. Did he see her as an enemy? As a weak defenseless woman? As someone to be conquered? She couldn't get a read on Tom Riddle. Not that she ever thought she would be able to. He was a criminal mastermind, a mass murderer and prodigy extraordinaire. Before her stood the very man that in decades to come would murder everyone she ever loved or even cared about in the slightest. The man that had ultimately killed her in every way possible in the most agonizing of ways. Her mind had been shot to the very depths of hell as he killed person after person, ripping piece after piece of her heart out. There was a time when she welcomed death, where she had begged for it. Anything had seemed better than the life she had been condemned too and then Dumbledore had offered her a way out. He had saved her soul.

And now she was here to save Tom Riddle's.

* * *

><p>Tom stared steadily back into the curious eyes of Analiesa Dumbledore. She said nothing. She didn't blink. Tom felt like she could see right through him with those blasted twinkling blue eyes. He had always thought that Dumbledore had enchanted his eyes to twinkle in such a pathetic way, to help put people at ease when speaking with him but Tom now knew he was wrong. However, Analiesa's eyes didn't hold back the emotions she felt like Albus Dumbledore's often did.<p>

He watched in fascination as her eyebrows furrowed and her wide eyes narrowed slightly. He wondered if she would ever answer. His eyes flickered down to her full blood red lips. He might have wondered if she were a vampire had he not known her lineage. He hadn't had much time to speak to the enigma that was Analiesa Dumbledore. He almost never saw her unless she sat in the library, which she often did but Tom never thought to interrupt her. He himself hated being interrupted while he was studying but today had been different.

It would be the last day he would get to speak to her alone. He needed to know if she was powerful. If she would even be worth his time. She could be his greatest weapon, if only he could sway her to his side. He would make her see his way of looking at the world. The woman would listen.

They always listened.

* * *

><p>"Perhaps you're right." Hermione finally agreed as she shut her book. "After all, it is a beautiful day outside."<p>

"Might I escort you then?" Tom asked suavely, an attractive smile on his face. Hermione tilted her head subtly.

"I suppose you might." Hermione answered slowly.

She had taken a great deal of time to avoid seeing Tom, deeming it safer to let him approach her. She often seen him in the library but he let her be respectfully. Outside of the library, she barely ever left Albus's side. They talked of everything and in someways she was sure that slowly, her father was helping her heal.

Hermione had read the file on Tom Riddle, more times than she cared to remember. She knew for one, that he never did something without an ulterior motive. Somehow it had to benefit him to talk to her. It didn't take much common sense to realize that Tom Riddle wanted information from her. Albus Dumbledore, her very father, was the only man that he had ever feared. Surely he thought Analiesa to be his weakness?

"How is Hogwarts living up to the tales I'm sure you've heard?" Tom inquired as he began to walk leisurely with her. His face held a look of interest but Hermione took it lightly, she knew he was a man of many faces.

"Hogwarts is as amazing as I imagined it would be." Hermione nodded, a small secretive smile on her face.

"I'm glad it is living up to your expectations Ms. Dumbledore." Tom replied fluently. "Surely you've found the library more than adequate."

"I've always had a thirst for knowledge." Hermione blushed lightly. "And please, call me Analiesa."

"Analiesa, then." Tom agreed. Hermione resisted the urge to flinch as the name flowed flawlessly off his serpentine tongue. Her eyes met his and light met not for the first time against that which was Tom Riddle. "It's not often that you find a young women so interested in reading a book, instead of preparing herself to be married."

"Excuse me?" Hermione bit out before she could reign her tongue in. She hadn't been expecting the comment and she couldn't hold back the fire in her eyes.

"I don't mean anything by it of course." Tom continued, as if Hermione hadn't interrupted angrily. "Only why should a girl be worried about a defensive spell when she could be learning household charms?"

"You must be sorely mistaken if you believe me to be a silly little witch that sits around all day waiting on hand and knee for a wizard's wants." Hermione breathed out quickly as she tried to wring in her obvious anger.

"I don't mean to offend you, I was just curious." Tom stopped as they reached the lawn in front of the grand doors of Hogwarts. Hermione gazed at him shrewdly. He wanted a reaction out of her and he got one. Simple as that.

"Knowledge is power." Hermione smirked lightly after a silent moment. "Surely you've realized that Mr. Riddle."

"Please, call me Tom."

Tom Riddle gazed down at her with an unknown glint in his eye.

* * *

><p>He had undoubtedly been trying to get a reaction out of her and he was sure that she had come to that very conclusion. But to hear such words be uttered from a woman's mouth had been rather astonishing to say the least. He was a man of power. If you had it, you were to be respected. And it just so happened that almost always, men held the power. The lady before him was unusual. He was sure about that and it was perhaps the only thing he could be completely sure about at this moment concerning her.<p>

"You can't possibly believe yourself to be as intelligent as a man though?" Tom asked innocently as he furrowed his eyebrows feigning curiosity. He watched in satisfaction as her face contorted into complete disbelief happily.

"How dare you." Analiesa hissed, her maddening blue eyes narrowing into slits. He wondered how far to push the petite witch but after a moment of again silence, he couldn't help himself. He wanted to provoke her powers.

He wasn't a fool. He knew what the Le Fay's were capable of. He knew of their light powers and how they resisted their use for only what they considered to be dire necessities. Pure power is what they referred to it as. Magic used for creating, for healing. He resisted the urge to grimace. He to knew however that their magic was not always destined to save the light in everyone and everything. Often, as seen in the case of the Most Noble Morgan Le Fay, the first notary descendent, darkness had a way of creeping in. It had a way of ensnaring the soul. If it wasn't for Merlin's influences then what would the Le Fay's be? Tom didn't hide his joyful sneer at such a thought. Such power going to waste, generation after generation. He couldn't just stand there and let it happen in front of his very eyes.

"Surely you aren't as daft as you make yourself out to be, _Tom." _Analiesa interrupted his ingenious thoughts, he gazed back into her blazing eyes. "Power is not dictated by something as indifferent as gender." Her voice held a lecturing quality. "Nor is it influenced by the blood that runs through their veins."

"Interesting thoughts Analiesa." Tom rose an eyebrow at her blood comment. The witch couldn't honestly believe that her power stemmed from anything less then her most ancient lineage. It was blasphemy. "But you are a Le Fay, how easy it is to say such a thing when the blood that runs through your very veins is said to be the source of pure magic in itself. You who hold the magic of Merlin and of Morgan Le Fay?"

"It is not who I am that makes me powerful or intelligent." The witch whispered, the genuine honesty of her beliefs dripping off her words. "It is who I chose to be among the chaos."

Tom Riddle tilted his head at the bold statement.

* * *

><p>Hermione smiled softly at her words, not caring to look at Tom Riddle much anymore. She had been surprised to hear such wise words coming from her own mouth. She believed them though perhaps more than she believed in this mission. It was like her father had always tried to tell them, to her, to Ron and to Harry. They hadn't listened much back then, the meaning of the words never quite sinking in to their childhood souls. It was not their abilities that made them who they were, it was their choices. There in lay their true power. And there in lay her hardest conquest in this mission.<p>

Tom Riddle had made horrible choices throughout his entire life. He never thought them horrible of course. Hermione knew that he honestly believed that power existed in someone purely because of the blood that ran through their veins. He believed in most everything she was sure that he had stood for. Pureblood Supremacy, the Genocide of Mudbloods and the Revolution of the Magical World into a new powerful Dark Age. However it all needed to be broken up into why he thought that way and why he was so passionate about it.

Tom Riddle had never known love. This was a commonly known fact. He never had any real friends, only followers that believed in his power and cause. There was no true loyalty in friends such as the Death Eaters. They followed Voldemort because they feared him. Purebloods believed in self preservation. Tom Riddle was ambitious and a genius. He always strove for something more. No amount of power had ever been enough. He put himself through dark rituals, he created horcruxes and killed thousands of people simply cause it was never _enough. _Tom Riddle had never met his match. His magic was unsurpassed, his intelligence unbeatable.

Her greatest obstacle in the success or failure of this mission lay within Tom himself. He had to make the choice to follow down a different route. Hermione had to show him, to _prove _to him that there was more to life than power. Or in the very least, there were more constructive ways to use it. She was here to offer him a different outlook on power and a different outlook on life.

_If only the little prat would listen._

Hermione continued to ignore the boy as she looked up into cloudy sky, just as the sun came out between two particularly nasty clouds. Beauty surrounded them, if only he could learn to appreciate it. Hermione walked over to a rather sad looking wild flower that looked as if recently it had seen more than a few bad days. She touched it lightly with a few fingers, if only Tom Riddle wasn't so stubborn. There had to be some kind of light in him somewhere, she just had to find it.

* * *

><p>Tom Riddle continued to watch Analiesa Dumbledore with heavily lidded eyes as she walked a little ways away and squatted down by a patch of dead flowers. The witch was peculiar but then again so was Albus Dumbledore and he had read that her mother, Circe, had been weird as well. It was as if they operated on a different level then the rest of them. As if they saw things in a different light. He watched curiously as her eyes closed as she fingered the dead petals lightly.<p>

Tom held his breath as suddenly the flower began to regain its prior color of bright purple. His face contorted into disbelief as flower by flower came out of their wilted state, growing stronger and brighter every second. His eyes flickered to her hands, the one was still fingering the single flower while the other steadied her body to the ground. The witch held no wand. She uttered no words. All he could surmise was that her lips held a small secretive smile and her eyes remained close.

When all the flowers were brought back to life, her eyes reopened with their damning twinkle sparkling full force as she gazed down at her handy work. Her mouth dropped its smile as she appeared to be surprised by the spout of wandless wordless magic. She threw a withered glance his way before promptly shutting her mouth and gathering herself off the floor.

"You can bring things back from the dead?" Tom forced out calmly, his posture nonchalant. Did this mean that she could bring anything back to life? Did pure magic entail such a thing? He had never read about this when he had been researching the ancient Le Fay family. However, it had said that their special abilities differed. Circe herself was a celebrated seer that was said to have predicted her own death months before hand.

Analiesa's eyes widened as if she were surprised by the question. Surely she had known of her own abilities beforehand. Her magic should have long been manifested. The witch walked back over to him before sighing heavily and looking up at him sadly. He suddenly felt as if Dumbledore himself was looking at him. The pity was undeniable in the blinding twinkle.

"Tom the flower wasn't dead." Analiesa said slowly as if talking to a child. "You can't bring anything back from the dead. We all have our life cycles, its only a matter of time."

Analiesa was staring at him calculating, as if he were an open book that she was trying to understand. As if he could even be understood. She was a stupid witch.

"Everyone and everything is destined to die. No one is above death." Analiesa whispered fiercely as if she were speaking more to herself then to him. He tilted his head again, curious once more by the witch. "That flower held a light, it just needed a chance to be healed."

"Of course, silly _pure_ magic." He uttered disgusted. Of course that's all it had been, so powerful was Analiesa Dumbledore that her great ability was to heal. "Have you no real powers?"

"I don't need to parade them around in front of everyone to have them." The witch spoke softly, again her eyes filled with pity.

He hadn't expected anything less from a Le Fay though. They didn't often use their powers unless they needed to. Surely the girl wouldn't go around cursing any man that talked bad of her. It was _above _a Le Fay. Their magic was a privilege to be seen.

And what an _honor _it had been.

* * *

><p>Tom Riddle was worse than she could have ever imagined. She had hoped that he wouldn't be so cynical and well, <em>evil, <em>for lack of a better word until after his horcruxes had been made. Hermione was amazed that someone could be so pessimistic at such a young age. She knew of course of his past but did that really warrant this man before her? He grew up without his parents in an orphanage but nothing ever completely horrible had happened to him. It wasn't as if his parents were brutally murdered in front of him.

She noticeably cringed at the thought and couldn't help to sneak a look up at their would-be murderer. He was staring down at her intimidatingly, his face blank and his eyes dead. Suddenly, it all came crashing down on her. Her walls closed in as her breathing increased into a horrified pant. What was she doing here! This was absurd. This man didn't deserve to _be _saved. He deserved to die. He deserved to feel the pain she was subjected to by him!

What had she been thinking! Tom Riddle would never change. He was an evil man. Even now as he stood before her, his handsome face studying her ever so calmly she could tell. Who was she to think that she could change a man such as this? Could she honestly expect him to not turn into the evil that was Lord Voldemort? The basis of that man already stood directly before her. Yes his choices would make him into who he was. But Dumbledore had been wrong.

Because Tom Riddle had already made that choice.


End file.
